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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27713059">How to Make a Dodo, a Wallaby, and a Sofa Fly</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Christoon_Cartoons/pseuds/Christoon_Cartoons'>Christoon_Cartoons</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Rocko's Modern Life, どうぶつの森 | Animal Crossing Series</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Resolved Romantic Tension, Swearing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 07:13:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,108</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27713059</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Christoon_Cartoons/pseuds/Christoon_Cartoons</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Waiting rooms don't have to be boring.</p><p>EDIT 11/28/2020: Now with artwork by my partner!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Rocko (Rocko's Modern Life)/Orville Dodo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>How to Make a Dodo, a Wallaby, and a Sofa Fly</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Alright, Space Cadet, that’s enough.”</p><p>Orville saved his progress, and closed his in-system pinball game, pinching the bridge of his beak. The recessed ceiling lights ticked and buzzed, and the sea continued to babble and slosh around the seaplane pier just beyond the window. This wasn’t a bad job in the conventional sense. The pay was good. Any passengers that came through were usually friendly and independent enough, needing little more than directions to a power outlet. Wilbur was never far away, either in the break room wearing out his Top Gun laserdisc or in Orville’s headset, amusing him with pilot jargon and vulgar, plane-related puns.</p><p>But the ‘slow’ moments were insufferable.</p><p>There was no other staff to talk to in times like these. He’d stare into the break room mini-fridge again and again. His desk could only be reorganized so many ways. The phone line had to be kept clear.</p><p>“Breaker, Maverick to Milk Maid, Maverick to Milk Maid, do you read? Over.”</p><p>“You fuck!” murmured Orville hoarsely, adjusting his headset.</p><p>“Ground Control to Maverick, I fucking told you not to call me that! Over.”<br/>
“Maverick banking in to land with the thirteen-twenty five layover for Palmbreeze. Do you copy, Milk Maid? Over.”<br/>
“Ground Control COPIES. Over.”<br/>
“No, say ‘Milk Maid copies.’ It’ll be funny. Over.”<br/>
“Or what, jackass? Over.”<br/>
“Or I tell Mama Bird what you said about her shrimp scampi last Friday. Do you read, Milk Maid? Over.”</p><p>Orville balled his wings into fists.</p><p>“...Milk Maid copies, you have a lane clear to land. Over.”</p><p>There was a pause. Wilbur was apparently savoring the moment.</p><p>“Roger that, Milk Maid. Over and out.”</p><p>Orville slapped his empty thermos to the side with a clatter and buried his face in his wings. He loved his brother, but he would be lying if he said he had never contemplated guiding him into a palm tree to crash. There came the familiar whooshing splash of the seaplane settling on the water, the winding down of the propellor, and, just within earshot, Wilbur’s routine celebratory shout of “Booya!” after deplaning.</p><p>Orville pitied every passenger who had to bear witness to that.</p><p>The gateway doors swished open. Wilbur strode ahead of the passenger through the turnstiles, he never helped with luggage. The early afternoon sun beamed off his grody aviator sunglasses, bouncing between Orville’s face and the wall. He flashed a corny grin, and threw his tie over his shoulder.</p><p>“How’s THAT for a landing, Milky?”<br/>
“It was definitely a landing, Wil, same as the other seven you make every day.”</p><p>Behind him, the door opened again, and something plasticy seemed to bang awkwardly once, twice against it. Orville, for his part, continued to glare daggers up at his brother.</p><p>“Copy,” smirked Wilbur, “Gonna take my lunch, have my smoke, fuel up the old girl and be back out about fourteen-hundred.”</p><p>He unclipped a scratched, yellowing thermos from his belt.</p><p>“Erm,” squeaked a voice, “Ya forgot to say ‘over,’ Mistuh Maverick, sir. Er… over.”</p><p>Both dodos turned. Gently propping a massive carryon bag to stand on its wheels, and clasping his hands together shyly, was a little wallaby, evidently Wilbur’s passenger. Orville scanned him up and down, always eager to see a new face. He was very short, with battered pink sneakers and a shirt printed like a funky bowling alley carpet. His fur was very well-kept, combed constantly out of nervousness, Orville guessed. He had a plump tail practically as long as he was tall, and the cookiest, most wayward little smile Orville had ever seen under a snout. Orville watched on, dreading how Wilbur would likely cause their innocent-looking guest discomfort when his beak next opened.</p><p>But Wilbur just laughed. Orville flinched, and let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding in. The wallaby flinched too, harder than Orville, and continued to smile guardedly.</p><p>“I like this guy!” Wilbur bellowed, giving the wallaby a rough pat on the shoulder. The wallaby coughed, and chuckled as he recovered. Orville gasped, and faintly held up his wings.</p><p>“I’ll be out on the dock, we leave at fourteen-hundred on the dot, Co-Pilot! Orv, this rascal’s allowed to charge alllll the phones in the waiting room he wants, on me!”</p><p>With that, Wilbur turned on his heel and sauntered out the door, sloshing his thermos in one wing without a care in the world. Orville and the wallaby watched the closed door for a moment. Orville drummed a wingtip on the desk, for some reason hesitant to shift his gaze.</p><p>“Er, excuse me, Mistuh Orv,” the wallaby asked, “Where is the uh, waiting room, then?”</p><p>Orville faced him, and gulped. The ceiling lights and the sloshing water seemed to have gotten acutely louder, deafening even. He pointed past the passenger towards a somewhat frowsy overstuffed red sofa and a sticky-looking glass coffee table, directly beyond the turnstiles. It was hardly a separate ‘room,’ Orville reflected to himself just then.</p><p>“It’s uh, over there.”<br/>
“Oh, o-oh I see! Tah very much.”</p><p>He and his carryon bag clacked away. Orville peered after him and his swaying tail for a few steps, before he pretended to have work to do. He muted the computer, pulled up FullTilt! Pinball, and made sure to push down on the mechanical keyboard extra hard. Why was he finding it so hard to talk to this passenger? By now he would’ve remarked on the weather, or asked how the flight was, apart from the pilot being an asshole. Orville stole another fleeting glance, as the wallaby all but sunk into the sofa and twiddled his thumbs.</p><p>“Did you… want to charge your phone?” the dodo offered.<br/>
“No, thank you! My dog ate it before I left, as a matter of fact.”</p><p>Orville wheezed a small giggle, but froze when he understood the passenger wasn’t joking!</p><p>“Oh… oh gosh! I’m so sorry.”<br/>
“Ah, that’s alright, you didn’t do it, mate. He’s eaten more important things of mine, trust me!”</p><p>Orville giggled without restraint, and decided to exit his pinball game. Now, he sat more at ease in his chair, and swiveled to face the wallaby more directly.</p><p>“What are you flying out to Palmbreeze for, if I can ask? Vacation?”</p><p>The wallaby giggled, and pressed his hands into the sofa.</p><p>“Not me! I work in a comic book store, we don’t get those! Er, vacations, I mean. This mate of mine, he’s always gettin’ himself into some scrapes. I’m on my way there to pay off this hotel bill he racked up. He got a popup ad saying he got an all-expenses paid stay, and the poor blighter really believed it!”</p><p>Orville gasped playfully.</p><p>“That’s awful!” he smiled, “I guess he’s not too familiar with the internet to have believed it, huh?”<br/>
“No, not at all, or me for that matter!” the wallaby smiled back, “It’s a long… surreal story, believe me.”</p><p>Orville leaned on his forearms, his tail feathers wagging scratchily against his chair.</p><p>“What’s your name, by the way?”<br/>
“Rocko. And you’re Orville, right? Or is ‘Orv’ short for something else?”<br/>
“No, yeah, it’s Orville. I don’t know if you could tell but that…” he paused theatrically, “...Thing that flew you here is my brother.”<br/>
“Oh, is he? He seems alright enough.”<br/>
“He’s always been like that,” Orville rolled his eyes, “He got this remote control plane for his fifth birthday, right? Planes have been his complete personality ever since.”</p><p>Rocko kicked one leg up to cross over the other.</p><p>“...Everybody needs a hobby,” he sighed, in a knowing tone.<br/>
“You said you work at a comic book store?” Orville budged his chair closer to the desk, “Did you like cartoons as a kid?”<br/>
“I did, yeah, still do! Growing up, I got bullied a lot you see, and keeping an eye on my sister was always so exhausting. Watched cartoons whenever I had time alone, bought comics every time I got my allowance. I even made a cartoon that got onto tv for a bit!”<br/>
“You’re joking!” Although Orville would believe anything Rocko would say at this point.<br/>
“Yeah! It was called ‘Wacky Delly,’ that ringin’ any bells? It had such a short original release-”<br/>
“Oh my goddd, Wacky Delly, that was you?! My college roommate and me found some uploads of it online, it was crazy fun from what I remember.”</p><p>“Nice to meet a fan,” Rocko hummed bashfully, smoothing the fur on one arm, “If you thought the episodes were surreal, you should’ve seen the production process, I wouldn’t have put my worst enemy where I was.”</p><p>Orville nodded, resting his beak in his palm. There was a pause, but it was a comfortable one.</p><p>“So how d’ya like this job? You’re the air traffic controller, or--?”<br/>
“Air traffic controller, receptionist, package handler, janitor to whatever messes my brother makes for me,” replied the dodo, without missing a beat, “I mean, sure, it’s a million little jobs wrapped into one, but I get good money! But then it’s like, like… the times I have nothing to do, and there ARE actually a lot of those times despite everything, it’s just…”</p><p>Orville trailed off, voluntarily. Rocko probably didn’t want to hear out this little vent session. Was he being annoying? How much longer until his flight was it now?</p><p>“...Tedious?” the wallaby offered. Orville allowed himself to let out another breath he had been unknowingly choking back.<br/>
“Yeah, yeah, that’s exactly it,” he murmured gratefully, rubbing his left temple firmly.<br/>
“I get that, Mistuh Orville,” Rocko’s hands rested softer on the cushions, “It can get slow at my comic book store too. You almost wish for an annoying customer to shake things up, eh?”<br/>
“Hehe, yeah. By the way, you can just call me Orville.”<br/>
“Alright, cheers Orville.”<br/>
“Haha, cheers, ...Rocko.”</p><p>Another pause. Something in Orville’s gut, if not his back, seemed to be telling him his swivel chair was suddenly acutely, horribly uncomfortable.</p><p>“Wanna try taking a break? I don’t know if you’re allowed to leave your desk, are ya?”<br/>
“Nobody will complain when I’m mostly responsible for the CCTV server in the basement,” the dodo huffed, leaping out of the chair as if it were a bed of hot coals.<br/>
“Here, come sit on this sofa, maybe we can flatten it out as a team, eh?”<br/>
“I never really sat on this,” Orville came trotting around the greasy table, “When we first moved it in, Wilbur sat on it like a big shot and it must’ve turned me off.”<br/>
“Shake off your chains mate, and cop a squat!”<br/>
“Yeah! Here I go!”</p><p>Orville braced for landing and collapsed into the sofa, Rocko couldn’t help but laugh as Orville feverishly clawed his way back to the surface as he sunk.<br/>
“How’s it feel taking a load off, eh?”<br/>
“Guh, amazing,” Orville groaned, “I never want to get up again.”<br/>
“Yeah,” the wallaby sighed, “It’s a lot cozier when there’s another person on it, I’d say.”<br/>
“Hm.”</p><p>Orville just lay there, adjusting his headset not to bend as he took in the beige and black speckles of the ceiling. The sea was still lapping and swishing just outside, but the lights seemed not to click and whine as much, even as he stared in their general direction. One wing felt warmer than the other, the wing that lay parallel with Rocko’s arm. He could get used to this, he really, really could. He couldn’t see any desk, computer screen, phone, any responsibilities of any kind from the angle he rested.</p><p>“Where’s this ceiling been all my life, I wonder?” he almost whispered, absentmindedly.<br/>
“Right over your head, I’d guess,” Orville couldn’t see it, but he could sense Rocko’s smirk.<br/>
“Aren’t you clever?” he wheezed out the softest little laugh.</p><p>He glimpsed Rocko’s sneaker kicking up in the corner of his eye as the wallaby’s leg uncrossed.</p><p>“You know, Rocko, you’re just… miles and away the most fun passenger I’ve had come through here.”<br/>
“Aw, cheers mate, you’re the most fun airport receptionist to ever receive me.”</p><p>Orville giggled again, even if nothing particularly funny had been said.</p><p>“When you get, um, your phone out of your dog’s stomach,” his beak burned beneath the growing blush, “Would you be willing to… call me with it, if I gave you my number?”<br/>
“Yeah, gotta let Dodo Airlines know I landed safe and sound, eh?”<br/>
“W-Well yeah but-”<br/>
“I’m just being cheeky, Orv, of course I’ll call ya. And you’ll call me too, whenever ya want, yeah?”<br/>
“Yeah, yeah! I’d love to.”<br/>
“Smashing,” whispered Rocko simply.</p><p>Orville smiled, and hoped the fourteen-hundred flight out would never have to leave.</p><p> </p><p>
  
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Artwork by my lovely partner, you can support her at 💕@thefandomhopper💕 on twitter!</p><p>Thank you for reading! Ly💚</p></blockquote></div></div>
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